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fall trees
I recently spent some time in the bedroom of my youth. I know that sounds like a metaphor but it’s not. My Mother still lives in the house I was raised in and last week while visiting her I went upstairs to look around. I have some fond memories of my childhood there. As a kid I was equally satisfied playing with friends or playing by myself. I spent many times in my room drawing or building model cars. I was into music at a young age and loved to listen to the radio and buy 45’s for the little record player I had. I have a brother who is four years older than me so we didn’t have a lot in common when we were little. But I never felt lonely or alone. I had a vivid imagination spurred on by books and movies that helped keep me endlessly entertained. When I was thirteen my Grandpa bought me a Montgomery Wards drum set and from that moment on, everything changed.

My Dad wouldn’t allow me to play the drums while he was home. Everyday after school I would race home and bang the hell out of those drums until he came home from work. Two years of that and I got into my first rock band. The reason for this nostalgia is because my wife, our dog Sophie and I are buying my Mom’s house and moving back to my hometown. Well Sophie doesn’t have to sign on the dotted line, but we will. The move will be a good one but a little hard also because we will no longer live in the country. I have really loved it here and if you follow my blog you know I have written about it extensively. It’s beautiful here, especially in the early morning. The sun rises over the lake and we have every kind of wildlife that our state supports. Owls and eagles, hawks, deer, coyotes, fox, turkeys, pelicans and every kind of bird and waterfowl you can imagine. I see most of them every day. It’s quiet here at night. The stars are bright, even with our yard light. This place has been the inspiration for many of my poems and stories.

But it’s not ours. We have rented this place ever since we lost our house to the banking scandal five years ago. So even though it has been a wonderful place to live, it has always been temporary. The move will bring me back to the neighborhood I grew up in. Much has changed over the years but much remains the same. My neighborhood was called Hungry Hollow. From the beginnings of my town, it was the area where the poor people lived. Thus, the name. All us kids who grew up here took pride in coming from this place. There was a certain perceived toughness about a kid from Hungry Hollow. Nobody messed with us. I think there was a stigma from the point of view of others in town because as an adult I’ve been told more than once that kids were told not to hang around with those “Hungry Hollow” kids. They were trouble. I can laugh at that now because looking back it’s hard to see us as trouble. We liked to have fun, no doubt, but trouble? I don’t know.

So there it is. Unless something goes drastically wrong with our finances, we’ll be buying my mom’s house. She’s 85 and has decided to move to an apartment. The big house is too much to take care of. As soon as something comes open for her, we’ll be moving. I think we’ll find someone to do a blessing ceremony because with any luck at all, we’ll not have to move again. A little sage, and some words said and then some friends, food and drink. It will be a good day.

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